15 minutes
by Firstblade
Summary: A rather pointless humorous blurb. Not to be taken seriously.


15 minutes

Now that she thought about it, it was a stupid idea. Of course, when you are sitting in a dark dank cell weapon-less with a splitting headache, it does lend some clarity. Hindsight is 20/20, so they say. The pounding in her head was equivalent to the sound of a bullet train, passing 2 inches in front of you. Mireille Bouquet does not like her plans going awry, does no like headaches and especially does not like feeling utterly defenseless. It took her a few minutes before she mustered the energy to move. With a wince, she sat up. The ceiling and walls spun around. Mireille was reminded of the time she rode one of those whirling octopus things as a kid. And how sick she was afterwards. Quickly, she closed her eyes, shutting out that image. She really didn't need her body feeling worse than it did. 

10 minutes

Thugs, she thought, don't they know how to treat a lady? They didn't quite have to hit her over the head that hard. On the other hand, they are used probably used to dealing with other thugs with much thicker skulls. She should have listened to Kirika. "Don't take the elevator or the evil mean bodyguards will find you and beat you senseless." Ok, maybe not exactly in so many words. More like, "be careful, use the stairs." Mireille groaned as she touched a hand gingerly to the back of head feeling a warm trickle of blood running through her hair. She touched the left side of her face where she knew a bruise was forming. God, she must look a wreck. Although Mireille wasn't a vain woman, she was a woman who values her beauty. Cursing uncharacteristic under her breath, she imagined nice and gruesome deaths for those who dared to lay a hand on her, especially if all this leaves any scarring. 

Mireille sighed and wondered how she always gets herself into these situations. Having to be rescued so often is killing her ego. Sometimes, she is a little envious of her partner. No one could capture Kirika, mainly because they either get shot, forked, stabbed or strangled before they can touch her. Who wouldn't want to be able to perform amazing acrobatics, slash a person's throat with a plastic ID card, do flips in mid-air, scale sheer walls, hit a pin head at 20 paces, leap over tall buildings in a single bound... whoops, wrong legend. That blow probably knocked something loose in her brain, her thoughts don't usually go helter-skelter like this. And what kind of word is helter-skelter anyways? Sounds like something those Americans came up with. 

5 minute

The door clanged open. Mireille was almost grateful, she wasn't sure why her mind was going in pointless circles today and hitting a brick walls at every end. Mireille squinted against the sudden flood of light to see the shadowy profile of the man, half tempted to tell whoever it is to stop being overly dramatic. She got to her feet, and tried to act like she wasn't locked up, feeling half dead and extremely pissed off. 

"Good afternoon. Mademoiselle. Or should I say good evening? It doesn't really matter in here eh?"

Mireille gave the chubby looking men her best you-are-lower-than-dirt-and-worth-shit look. 

He did not care, or was too stupid to notice considering how he was leering at the rest of her body. She really must do something about that, preferably involving as much pain as possible for him. 

"Well, well. I would have hired you if I knew Noir was such a beautiful young lady. I would be interested in paying for more than an assassination." Mireille suppose she should be somewhat frightened. But the effect was ruined by his voice which sounded something like a chicken with a bad cold.

"But as it is, I'm sure we will have plenty of fun the next few days."

Mireille eyed the distance between them and briefly contemplated kicking him in the balls, but quashed the idea as impractical. 

"How rude of me, I haven't allowed you to say anything. Any last wishes before we get on with our business?"

Silence.

1 minute

"Well?" He tapped his foot impatiently.

Mireille blinked. Oh yes, here was the part where she screams and begs for mercy. She guessed she forgot to read the script.

30 seconds

She opted to be diplomatic, more than the guy deserved, but she was taught to be polite. "I think it would be in your best interest to let me go."

He threw back his head and laughed. "You have a great sense of humor Mademoiselle." He chuckled. "But I'm afraid I have no time for your games."

10 seconds

Only Mireille's sensitive ears picked up the small sound. "Then I am sorry, our business is at an end. You are out of time"

"What-?"

0 seconds

Two guards stumbled backwards through the door before collapsing to the ground. They were dead. The next instant, Kirika leapt through the door into a crouch, gun pointed in front of her. Two squeezes of the trigger and the leader's brains splattered themselves colorfully upon the wall. 

"Was I late?" 

Mireille accepted her Walther PP9 from Kirika with the faintest smile. 

"No, you were right on time."


End file.
